“… Let’s have lots of fun and get many treats …”

It’s Halloween!

Now a little ditty about this holiday by the best band ever.

(courtesy info.nhpr.org)

My reasons for this declaration are many but my main reason is they have THE best Halloween song ever recorded.

What–you don’t agree with me? Well fuck off then because Frank understood them and said their music ‘is beyond Captain Beefheart.’

If they’re good enough for Mr. Zappa, then they’re good enough for all of humankind.

(thanks to my sister Liza)

Very Presidential

The finish line for the presidential election is in sight and thank fucking dog for that.

I don’t know about y’all, but this particular election season has been tough to take –even for a political junkie like myself. The decision for me was easy because I knew who I was going to vote for after pulling the lever in the previous presidential election. For those of you who don’t know me very well, let’s just say I rather enjoy having complete reign over my lady parts, and I care about what happens to those less fortunate than myself–even those folks who don’t look like me.

I wish I had stocks to sell to pay for my education, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to do it. When that day comes, I know I’ll still be on the side of all Americans, not just rooting for a select few who buy shit like helicopters, strap dogs to car roofs and pal around with NASCAR team owners.

To cut some of the nastiness of the past few months, here’s some presidential tidbits, trivia and other fun stuff to enjoy.

Who knew the 8th President of the United States would inspire a group of ne’er-do-wells to form a street gang in his name? I had no idea he was so mean, but Kramer did.

George learns how mean the Van B Boys are the hard way.

President Van Buren would be so proud.

Big meanie: President Van Buren (courtesy nndb.com)

Size doesn’t matter. The 4th President, James Madison, was the tiniest. He weighed about a buck and standing at a mere 5’4″, he coulda been a jockey if he desired. Standing at 6’4″, the tallest was Abraham Lincoln. President William Howard Taft was the most zaftig so far, weighing in at about 3 bills. Once President Taft got stuck in the White House bathtub and after being set free from his porcelain prison, he ordered a new one installed. This new tub could hold 4 grown men.

President Taft (courtesy funwithhistory.wordpress.com)

Age before beauty. The oldest was the Gipper (69) and the youngest elected was JFK (43). But the youngest POTUS to serve was Teddy Roosevelt. Teddy took over for President McKinley after McKinley was shot dead by an anarchist in September 1901. Teddy was 42 when he took over the top spot in politics.

The sporting life. President Benjamin Harrison was the first POTUS to attend a baseball game–the Cincinnati Reds vs. the Washington Senators (the Reds won). President Taft was the first prez to throw out the first pitch at a baseball game. This became a regular occurrence for all presidents, with one exception–Jimmy Carter. Oh, and John Quincy Adams loved to get all nekkid and swim in the Potomac each morning.
There goes my erection.
Geo Washington, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams all had one thing in common–besides diddling lady slaves–they adored, collected and played marbles.

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door. Four presidents were assassinated while in office: Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and JFK. Six others were much luckier and survived attempts on their lives: Jackson, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Truman, Ford and the Gipper. Four others bought the farm whilst POTUS: Harrison succumbed to pneumonia one month to the day, after making the longest inauguration speech EVER. Zachary Taylor’s gut exploded 16 months after taking office in 1850. Major poon hound and the leader of  one of the most scandal-ridden administrations, Warren Harding, died suddenly in August 1923. The official party line was he died from a heart attack, but rumor has it his better half poisoned him because she was sick of him playing hide the presidential sausage with other ladies. The second and third presidents, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, respectively, died on the same day: July 4, 1826.

Smokin’ hot dead POTUS

Et cetera. Tricky Dick was the first president to visit all 50 states. Teddy Roosevelt was the first POTUS to travel abroad (Panama Canal), Slick Willie took 133 trips out of the country–the most of all presidents. President Roosevelt was the first one to fly on an aero-plane. That was in 1943. The Commonwealth of Virginia birthed the most presidents (8), while 31 states haven’t had one yet. The first POTUS born a US citizen was Martin Van Buren. The others before him were fuzzy ferriners.

Thoughts on 2016. Are you kidding? I don’t have any idea as to who I’ll back in 4 years. I just want to get through this one alive and stay on the right side of the law. But, I DO have an idea as to who should throw his besotted cap into the ring: Dave Tillis.

And now, a story about a clown …

Now here’s a trial I wouldn’t mind covering. But, I’d be thrown out due to all of the giggling I would inspire with my sotto voce remarks.

Police: Clown tried to solicit sex at rest area

Some story highlights:

“Vosolo was wearing only thong underwear when Caranfa approached. Vosolo was arrested and charged with indecent exposure, assault and battery, failure to stop for police, a marked lanes violation, and disorderly conduct. According to police, he allegedly grabbed the truck driver after entering his cab.

A search of Vosolo’s vehicle resulted in the seizure of several sex toys, Halloween masks and head lamps. He is expected to be arraigned today at Newburyport District Court. According to state police, Vosolo has no previous convictions.”

A clown wearing a thong? Hey, I know I wouldn’t have it any other way. A head lamp? What–is he stealing my act now?

I’ll let the rest of this story wash over your whilst I get ready for another day of the ex-cop beats up bartender trial.

Who knew that clowns have to pay for sex? It is true–you *do* learn something everyday!

Totally sexist comment coming up: If Ann Coulter was unattractive, no one would give her airtime or publishing contracts. However, since she has stringy blonde locks that are in dire need of hot oil treatment, everything she spews out of her maw is considered golden. Conservative men now have something else to wank their puds to–instead of their old stand-by: Reagan’s Inauguration Addresses on a loop.
What a horror of human being she is.

King of States!

A man with Down’s Syndrome wrote this incredible response to National Disgrace Ann Coulter, who does not deserve this gentleman’s time of day.

He was far more diplomatic than Ann Coulter deserves, and is dissuading me from publishing the open letter I’d been planning on:

Dear Ann,

Eat shit and die.


I realize that my letter is not very effective as a riposte, so I’m just going to go with “What he said.”

Ann Coulter: Making People Embarrassed To Be Human Since 1961

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Trial notes, Days 1 & 2

I must admit that it IS nice spending time in a courtroom where I am not the center of attention. Ahem.

For those of you who are just tuning in, I’m covering the Obrycka vs. The City of Chicago and Anthony Abbate Jr. civil trial for Gaper’s Block. So far, it’s been challenging, frustrating and shitloads of fun. To answer your next question, as a matter of fact I DO have a twisted idea of what fun is.

During my time sitting on a hard bench in a cold courtroom, I’ve noticed a few things:

Journos are fucking RAUNCHY as hell (yes I knew this, but experiencing it in person is completely different). I sat next to two well-respected female journos and what they were uttering to me under their breaths about the trial made me blush. I had to disguise a couple of laughing fits with coughs. Fortunately, most of the people in the courtroom are illin’ so my ruse fooled no one.

With the exception of a few folks, including the judge presiding over the trial and her staff, those who work in the courthouse have this death-warmed-over pallor about them. I didn’t want to make direct eye contact with any of the older courtroom denizens for fear that I’d disappear in a puff of smoke.

All courtrooms need a drink cart for the observers. And a cake cart.

All courtrooms should have an actual court jester. The jester should distract the courtroom during sidebars, lead the jury in and out of the jury box the way a band leader guides a marching band, and highlight objections with a jig.

I could wear judge robes all the damn time. Think about it, you know this is a grand idea. You wouldn’t have to wear anything underneath it or you could wear whatever you wanted to. Me? I’d wear pajamas or sweats and Hooters t-shirts. Or, better yet, one of those obnoxious “Porn Star in Training” t-shirts because when you’re wearing a judge’s robe who says you have to display grace and class underneath it all.

Finally, I keep waiting for the attorneys to treat the witnesses as hostile. I wanna see sobbing on the stand. I wanna see the smug look on an attorney’s face after he or she makes a witness weep and wheeze. Also, I wanna see the judge bang her gavel so hard it breaks and hear her bellow “ORDER IN THE COURT OR I WILL CLEAR THIS COURTROOM!” Finally, I’m waiting for the judge to utter one of my fave smart-ass tee vee judge lines “You’d better be going somewhere with this, counselor.”

I’m only in week one of three, so there’s still a possibility that one of my hopes will be realized before the jury delivers the verdict.

Until then, check out my first installment here.

(courtesy somecamerunning.typepad.com)

The 4th estate called.

And I answered, although I’m not getting paid.

My blogging will be on hold for bit since I’ll be covering the civil trial of Karolina Obrycka vs. The City of Chicago and Anthony Abbate, Jr., hopefully for a local online site Gaper’s Block.

For those of you unfamiliar with the case, back in February 2007, Obrycka was a tending bar, and believed that Abbate was over-served so she cut him off. Instead of realizing that she was correct, he gave her quite the beat down. Horrible, considering Obrycka maybe weighs 120lbs and Abbate is what Central Casting would send on a casting call for dumb, lummox Chicago cop. I’m sure you know the type.

Oh, and the best part? The entire beating was caught on tape.

Abbate was tried, convicted (um, only probation–welcome to Chicago!) and lost his job, but he still gets to keep his pension (again, the Chicago way. Google Jon Burge for more fun tales!). The trial I’ll be covering is Obrycka’s suit against the city. Money doesn’t appear to be the great motivator here since she’s only asking for a cool mil, but what appears to be at stake here is the CPD’s infamous Code of Silence, and how this code hampered the police report. Should be interesting.

I may drop little tidbits on here during the next couple weeks if I find something interesting during my stint in the Federal Courts Building, or whatever else tickles my fancy.

Until then, stay tuned to Gaper’s Block and Twitter. Thanks!

Frankly my dear …

I don’t give a damn if your life is ruined.

I’m pro-free speech — absolutely. Free speech is one of the many things that makes this country great, and makes it shitty from time to time. Who said democracy was easy?

But, when you hide behind an anonymous moniker on the Interwebs, and post pix of underage girls (both alive, dead & “Niggerjailbait”), pregnant women and make jokes about rape whilst hiding behind FREE SPEECH, and get called out for it, then you deserve the shit storm that’s raining down on you. Oh, and if your family engages in the same type of trolling you do (Redditors not_so_violentacrez, Spawn_of_VA, wife and son, respectively), well … as the saying goes: Shit rolls down hill.

See, that’s the tricky part about free speech: You can say what you want, but then you must be ready to deal with the consequences your words have on others. See what our Founding Fathers did there?

Or in the immortal words of my late-grandfather*– the epitome of the Southern Gentleman –“If you want to run with the big dogs, you gotta learn how to shit in the tall grass.”

Life’s a bitch sometimes.

*Of course I know others uttered these words before him, but the first time I heard ’em was via Pop Pop.

Religion & [th]ugh

I’d rather walk on my lips than criticize anyone else’s religious practices (unless they’re particularly heinous), but something must be said about how stinkin’ weird this ritual is.  From The Telegraph:

Briton arrested with roasted human foetuses for use in black magic ritual

A British man has been arrested in Thailand after being found with six foetuses that had been roasted and covered in gold leaf as part of a black magic spirit ritual.

So, some people believe that roasted fetuses, or I mean foetuses, covered in gold leaf no less will bring them wealth and good luck. Guess cuz it’s on the Internets it must be true, correct? I had no idea that feetusses — or however you spell it — would bring such wonderful things to those who shelled out shitloads of cash. In the scheme of things, this doesn’t surprise me in the least.

What chaps my hide is the spelling of “foetus”– when I see it spelled all British n’ shit. My mind sees, then pronounces it as “foe – tuss”– just like how it pronounces “Phoebe”, “Foe – bee.” See what they did there? Come to think of it, Phoebe’s Foetus is a great band name.

Six in one, I guess. But, why to the Brits have to go and fuck up our language so damn much?

Limey wangs.

Now, I don’t know if I want to scrub, smack, smoke, laugh at, bail out, shake my head at, tattoo, de-tattoo, introduce my mom to, make him lick my boots, have him shave my armpits, make secksy time/hang out/talk politics/watch porn with OR marry Lil Wayne. Quite the quandary I know.

(courtesy of live.drjays.com)

See what I mean?

Apple pie a la beaver butt anyone?

Folks, you all know that I am constantly striving to make myself smarter than your mopey asses, and today I believe this Herculean effort has been achieved — thanks to my good friend, the Goddess Professor.

Goddess Professor is like the wee bit older friend you had when you were a youngin’, hangin’ out on the hammock in the backyard, who taught us about the the gross stuff that your family refused to teach you. Under the tutelage of people like Deborah, we learned that yes indeed the two men living in the same house down the street were not just ‘roommates’, and the vicar really is a womanizing drunk.

We all had a friend like her, and today we’re better people for it.

Fortunately for me and for you, we have Deborah watch over and guide us through middle age with more additives to enrich our dull-as-fuck lives.

Now, show of hands — who wants ice cream with all sorts of toppings — mainly baked goods, gravies, gelatin/puddings and alcohol?

My question is, why should beavers’ butts be crushed for, well, anything???